Beautiful Disaster
by Rorin C
Summary: After the Woads had made taken a few captives, things unwind, and disasters unfold before Arthur and Lancelot's eyes.All that Lancelot had ever wanted is slowly turning into ruins, and Gawain is able to experience what Lancelot was so lucky to have. (R&R)
1. One: Spot of Wine

**Beautiful Disaster **

**((PREQUEL TO 'Fondness can't save you'))**

Notice: Since many of the other fics I've written, I understand some people don't enjoy their favorite characters to be written in a light which isn't 'perfect'. Well, in the movie 'King Arthur' Lancelot is given a twist, he is more or less somewhat slimy, rude a womanizer and arrogant. I believe it to be an interesting twist on the tale I love. I wish to portray Lancelot in the manner he was written in the movie, so, spare me the rude comments. And of course, there are far more Knights alive at this moment, but since I'm lazy to research their names, all I have are the original seven within the movie.

No flames, or utterly rude comments please, although helpful comments allowed.

Also, I have created my own female character, just to make it interesting, and I slapped more of a romantic twist. ((It doesn't involve a romance with Arthur))

I don't own any characters; Lana is solely my own crafted character.

_Italics mean that it is either a memory, or a thought._

One - A Spot of Wine

((Ten years into their duty with Rome))

The cold chill down her spine rushed over like sloshing waves, filled with the ocean filth. The water at her side wasn't helping ease the pain, and the days felt shorter than before, and with every sip, she felt her life slip farther into the depths of this out post faster in these past few weeks, than her ten years here. The water in her mug frosted at the sides, was half full and it seemed the more that was gone, the more she wanted to drink.

Once a guard hollered a few times, she knew it was them; licking her lips, she tottered down steps of the wall, pacing back to the small shack they called a pub. Placing her water on the counter she closed her eyes as the gates opened. Swigging down the last bit, she watched Vanora approach her, she leaned over the tarnished counter and held Lana's shoulders.

"Darlin' he's coming in. Smile, this is what you've waited for." Vanora's eyes turned soft as she saw Bors in the distance. "Lana, look." She whispered before kissing Lana's forehead gently. Vanora cared for Lana deeply, she always promised to watch after Bors when Lana traveled with them, and in return, Vanora watched over Lancelot when Lana wasn't around.

As Vanora told her, Lana turned around, she saw Lancelot, with a single rose in his hand, and his eyes lay directly on her. Lana relaxed her elbows on the counter and waited for him to approach her. Blushing, she laughed in joy when he was a few inches in front of her.

"It's been days," Lana said, she wasn't angry, but Lancelot just smiled while twirling the rose in his fingers.

"Look honey, I have a rose, all for you." He'd ignored what she said, and after she took it from his hand, she smelt the sweet aroma in the pink petals. Closing her eyes, she in hailed all the wonderful smells. "You like it?"

"Adore it." Lana placed the rose on the counter, before leaning forward, tossing her arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. His heart raced pulsed faster as her silky lips meshed with his. "But still, I remember begin told this trip was just a late night travel." Lancelot placed his arms about her waist and pulled her closer, his face smirking with a tough attitude. Leaning in, Lancelot kissed her cheek.

"Well, you know the reason as to why plans change. You should know better than most wives," Lana raised an eyebrow, wife? She wasn't his wife.

"Lancelot, is your head alright? I'm not you're wife, merely a partner in crime."

"And bed." Lancelot quickly corrected, Lana playfully slapped his chest, which didn't affect him at all. His wide smile made Lana's chest pound, seeing his big dark brown eyes engulfing only her, Lana felt the most cherished when she was with Lancelot. "How have you been feeling?"

"She's eating like a horse," Vanora wiped her hands on a rag behind the bar, then point up at Lana. "Honestly, she keeps begging me to make pies, bake berries and such. You're woman is driving me nuts!" Vanora laughed sarcastically, Lana seemed to always come down sick, or eat nervously when she wasn't on a mission with the Knights. Thus she had Vanora keep her company. But Lancelot and Lana knew more to her strange eating habits.

"Vanora you volunteered," Lana tried to save herself, but Lancelot just laughed and stared at her face, he wasn't bothered but Vanora's words, and his softening eyes made Lana's heart melt.

"You can have anything you wish my love." Lancelot corrected, and then he smirked and turned to Vanora behind Lana. "Anything, but ale of course, you get rather dangerous with a load of ale in your blood."

"Ale isn't what I enjoy anyway." Lana growled as Lancelot laughed loudly before kissing her forehead.

"I need to change, you coming?" Lancelot dropped his arms and questioned Lana; she reached up and brushed her fingertips over his chin.

"Ohh, I'll wait for you down here. I wish to speak with Arthur and the boys." Lancelot tilted his head and sighed.

"Arthur's still upset, I suggest you watch what words slip from you're lips." Lancelot winked before turned around, and headed to his chamber's for a fresh change of clothing. Watching Lancelot walk away safely to their chambers, Vanora shouted with excitement, in the distance was Bors stood, celebrating his return home. And With Vanora at his side, his ten children ran to their father, with wide smiles and joyous laughter.

The flashing flames illuminated the darkness as the Knights flushed passed the gates, seeing their tired yet home sick faces, they where welcomed by the people with thrill. Galahad had released his horse in the barn, and found him heading to the bar for some wine. Lana adventured behind the bar while Vanora reunited with Bors. Leaning over, Lana was looking at the shelves, built into the bar and moved around jugs of wine in order to find her favorite.

"Vanora, wine please!" Galahad said restlessly, he moved his fist on the bar, and turned to see the out post, oh how he hated this place. Rubbing his chin with his free hand, Galahad cleared his throat.

"Stop your shouting Galahad." Lana peered up from the back of the bar, and with Galahad in confusion, he laid his elbow on the bar, and leaned over, it was Lana. He could recognize that long brown chestnut hair anywhere. Keeping his balance, Galahad burst into laughter with a large grin.

"Taking over the post are we?"

"Yes," Lana slammed a vanilla colored jug on top of the counter, some wine splashed out, and with a laugh, Galahad turned over his shoulder and yelled for Vanora.

"Vanora! Lana's ruining the wine!" Lana stood up, and gripping the half-empty pitcher, she drenched Galahad in the last wine contents. With a cocky grin, Lana's brown eyes outlined Galahad as the purple wine dripped from his now flattened hair. His eyes where glossy and large, while his hands opened up, catching the last few drops of wine from his hair. Galahad looked at Lana, she was trying to cover her mouth as she laughed, and soon enough, Galahad was grinning as well.

"Galahad," Lana was beginning to apologize, but just before the word 'sorry' was even pronounced, Galahad reached for the tall jug full of wine. Lana, laughing hysterically, ran from behind the bar, with Galahad close on her tracks. "VANORA!! GALAHAD HAS YOUR WINE!" Lana shouted, her eyes lifted up, she saw Gawain and Tristan ahead, and ready to have a shield, she ran behind to bemused two.

"What the hell?" Gawain mumbled as Lana latched onto the back of his armor and Tristan. Tristan pointed ahead, as Galahad ran wildly with a jug of wine. Gawain placed up his hands, still with Lana hiding behind them. "Now Galahad."

"Nice hair," Tristan interrupted Galahad's curls where soaked, and the aroma floating from him a thick grape smell. Gawain chuckled at the saturated Knight, but Galahad stopped and stared at his two dear friends.

"Will you move so justice is served?" He asked with a smile, Gawain shrugged his shoulders to Tristan, then looked back at Galahad, Tristan took a step sideways, and Lana screamed mischievously as her face was now seen by Galahad. With his rosy cheeks gleaming in the firelight, Galahad taunted Lana.

"Justice has been served," Lana giggled before turning and running when her shield broke, and Galahad penetrated in. She ran back, and seeing her savior in view, her dress flew in the air, weaving with her running pace, until she captured Lancelot in her palms. "Save me!" She whispered in laughter, then shifting to hide behind his back. He had on his usual leather weaved vest, and his sheathed sword at his side, a interested laugh left his lips, while Galahad sprinted over with his drenched hair and shoulders.

"Lancelot hiding your woman will not stop her fate." Galahad pointed at the jug of wine. Lancelot opened his eyes -- this could be appealing.

"You're looking good Galahad." Lancelot's deep voice boomed over the partying crowd, and with Galahad bowing with a proud strut, he opened his mouth.

"Well thank you, my look takes hours." Sarcastically Galahad shouted, pushing his hair from his eyes. "Mind if I speak with Lana, it'll only take a moment," Lancelot pulled up a finger to Galahad.

"One moment." Lancelot turned around, still between the two he bent over and whispered with Lana. "If I save you, what is my reward?" Lana smirked, Lancelot wanted a reward? Nibbling on her bottom lip, she flashed her eyes up at him.

"Whatever you want." She murmured, but in a swift motion, he gripped her wrists, and swung her in front of Galahad. "NO!" Lana shouted, Lancelot stepped back, clear from any wine splatter, when Galahad released the jug of wine on her head. So there she stood, all the men laughing, and her light green dress now a dark purple. Opening her eyes, she looked at the nearest table to her right, and reaching for Bors' ale, she chucked the remaining ale back at Galahad.

"Why you!" Galahad sneered, in half a laugh and half a disrespected tone.

"All is fair in war Galahad!" Lana shouted, her back hunched to dodge any other attempts Galahad must have. Her feet paced backwards, and with all the other Knights in her view, she knew safety was near. Galahad licked the ale which dripping from his maroon lips, he tossed his arms in the air, and shook his soaked head; spats of wine and ale fell down as he grunted.

"I surrender, I suppose I'd rather drink than splash about the alcohol."

"That's my boy," Lancelot patted Galahad's shoulder, Lana curled her finger and laughed at her lover. "Surrender when you're behind."

"Oh be silent trader." Lana spat while, her drenched palm pulled up her dress from the dirt, awhile walking near Lancelot, he finally realized her plan, and jolted back, causing dust to fly from his old position.

Galahad turned to Gawain, whom already had a glass of wine waiting for him. Gripping the clay glass, he took a swig with pleasure, Gawain rested his palm on Galahad's shoulder, nearly applauding him for his effort.

"Better luck next time," He grunted, as the crowd laugh, Galahad rolled his eyes and began to defend himself.

"She's tricky! You've seen her on the battlefield! She can maneuver her way out of a nailed box if you give her the chance." Gawain pointed at Lana as she launched her sopping skin onto Lancelot, he cried on in despair, he'd just changed clothes to stay dry.

"There was no nailed box." Gawain admitted for Galahad, honestly their tiff wasn't so difficult, and if weapons where allowed, Galahad could have sworn he'd won, Bors, Tristan, Dagonet and Gawain cracked up, before turned back to their drinks.

"Pay back I see," Lancelot detached a strand of Lana's wine soaked hair off her shoulder, as she stared into his face, smiling all along. Wrapping his hands about her waist, he waited for her reply, with his newly wine-covered clothes.

"You know damn well,"


	2. Two: Fever

Two - Fever

"...We have a shipment of fruits, weaponry, clothing, linens, and mostly things for the people. It'll be a simple mission; four of you can go. Volunteers mostly, but Lancelot, I would like you to go though." Arthur sat at his usual seat at the round table, Lana was three seats to his left, and Lancelot a singe chair from her. Traveling downwards, Galahad was next, then Gawain, Bors, Dagonet and Tristan. The eight of them sat equal as Sarmation Knights. Lana pulled her wine covered hair back, it was beginning to dry, but still she smelled like a fresh glass of grape alcohol, maybe that's why Lancelot was being so flirtatious. "Near the end of the wall though, Woad territory, been since their has been an absence of their presence, I believe this to be uncomplicated." Arthur looked over his warriors; his hands flat and planted on the round sheen table, freshly clean. The eternal flame danced in the center as, Tristan's eyes followed each twist of the flames as Gawain spoke up.

"I'll go,"

"As will I." Lana broke in, before taking another sip of wine. "Hey I had to stay home last time," She smirked, Lancelot gave a corky curved smile at her, and she simply shrugged her shoulders.

"Now I have to go," Galahad winked at Lana, she pointed her finger as the Knights laughed. "I believe some pay back is in order." Arthur lifted his palm, calming the Knights.

"Save the foolery for when you return. This is still a mission, no matter the size." Arthur looked between Galahad and Lana, waving her hand, she replied.

"We'll mind our manners, I swear."

"We'll leave at first light." Arthur finished, and the Knights stood up and left their seats. Lancelot looked at Lana; she smiled and motioned that she was planning on waiting to speak with Arthur.

His fireplace roared with the wood crackling when each flame engulfing the fibers. Arthur was writing on his scripts, like he usually did after a completed mission. Rome enjoyed knowing their victories, hearing the stories of the Knights was something Arthur hoped Pelagius was listening as well.

The Roman armor Arthur treasured was fitting on a near by chair, as he relaxed in a sweatshirt, and pants. His quill jerked with her strokes, but before he could finish his thoughts, a knocking was at his door. Grinding his teeth, he touched his forehead, is felt like fire to the touch. Ignoring the heat, Arthur called out.

"Come in," The door opened quickly, Lana stood in the frame, she had a black cape draped over her body, Arthur figured she was in dry clothes now. His eyes were undisturbed back down to the script as she closed the door behind her. She had a hopeful smile on her lips, but Arthur didn't take the time to look.

"Writing to Rome?" Arthur nodded his head as she entered; he was still angry with her, yet so polite to Lancelot. "I know you are still angry with me. But Arthur doesn't allow something like this to tear us apart. You are still one of the most important men in my life. Not only my commander, but also my brother." Lana placed her palm on his desk, inches from his writings. His face began to look up, be he halted.

"Leave it be Lana."

"Leave what be? I'm in love with your best friend, if you wish to talk to me about it great. But stop acting like I'm not here. Not in front of the men." Lana paused and hoped Arthur would speak, but nothing escaped his lips, his scribbles on the scroll were only heard. "I have fought at your side, as nothing more than a warrior, and now I stand here, you're sister, begging for your approval."

"You never needed my approval before."

"I have never said no to you before Arthur, and I'm not planning on doing it again. I just need my brother to love me again." Lana leaned closer, and noticed his brow sweating, narrowed her eyes; she noticed his eyes where red. "Arthur, are you feeling well?"

"I'm fine."

"Arthur," Lana touched his forehead, it was like a hot coal on her skin, she pulled a cloth from her cape's pocket, and dried his forehead, and Arthur sat still, surprisingly. "Come get into bed. I'll fetch you some water and cloths."

"Lana-"

"Lay in bed, or your not riding tomorrow. I'll have Lancelot lead the way. Now lay and pray to you're God that your fever breaks." Lana ordered while going to get some water.

"This is perfect, an uncomplicated mission." Lana laid in bed next to Lancelot; her hand swiping his bare chest once she was comfortable.

"I still would like to you stay, it'll be safer." Lana closed her mouth and stared up into his eyes, Lancelot kissed her forehead then reached under the blanket, and touched her belly. "But, I guess a small jaunt up north would be alright."

"Really?" Lana laughed, she stayed home from the last mission for a reason. That was why she'd avoided most of the last mission. "Oh Sir Lancelot, you have made my day." Lana pushed herself up, and laying her body on his, she kissed him passionately.


	3. Three: Simple Mission

Three - Simple Mission

Unfortunately, Arthur's fever didn't break, and like Lana had promised, he wouldn't ride, and Lancelot seconded the opinion when he saw Arthur's face, beat red and his cheeks sweating like raindrops falling from a cloud. To Arthur's protest, he'd stayed in bed, with Vanora tending to him. Lancelot took over Arthur's position as the leader of this mission; Arthur seemed to get quieter when this was mentioned. It was the most unusual morning, Arthur was sick, and Lana felt her stomach turn as well, she'd felt the same several mornings in a row now; Lancelot would rub her back, and they'd continue the day.

So Gawain, Galahad, Lancelot and Lana rode North, near the edge of Hadrian's Wall to retrieve the load of supplies for the out-post. It took most of the day, and with all them deciding they rode in the middle of the night, finally arriving to the load near dawn.

Lancelot patted his stallion, he rode hard, and a rest was well deserved. The wagon was filled up to the top, and almost poking out the sides, along with the wagon, was a single Roman guard, whom waited at the meeting point with several other guards. They would return to their post, as the single guard would follow the Knights back to south.

Lana looked at all the things shoved into the wagon, there was a beautiful purple velvet pillow, and her fingertips ran over the smooth cloth, she wanted it as her own. Lancelot walked stood beside her, and watched her in awe.

"You want that pillow."

"Look at it, it's beautiful."

"Fine, it's yours." Lancelot placed his hands on his hips, Lana turned to him, the two swords on his back pointing out like they where his own appendages. Leaning over, she scratched her bare calf, her armor was farley new, and more lightweight than the men were.

She had brown leather pant-capri, beginning at her knees and tight on her thighs, and from her knee to her waist. Two daggers where tied to her tights, for easy use when needed. It was hidden but a weaved skirt, slit on the sides to ride a horse easily, and the cloth was heavy and a dark green color. Her belt was silver chain, useful in battle when no other weapons are around. It was wrapped twice about her waist, with her shortened sword on its sheath. Her armor was tied around her neck, with a v-neck line made of a thick cloth, then covered by leather, her shoulders where bare, as where her arms when she wouldn't wear her cape.

"Are you in charge of this loot?" Lana asked sarcastically.

"Are you braving your life to gather these goods?" Lana nodded her head; Lancelot placed his arm around her shoulders and laughed. "Then it's yours." Lana smirked as Galahad shouted while on his horse next to Gawain.

"We should leave soon."

Lana turned to Lancelot, lifting her fingers; she touched his cheek welcomingly, her smile appearing to be full of her love for him. But as quick as the moment was created, she stepped away, and headed towards Gawain.

"You have any bread left on you?" Gawain's blue eyes flashes in the dawn radiance, standing with his hands planted firmly on his hips, he raised his eyebrow, Lancelot was inspecting the wagon as Gawain saw, so he decided to have some fun. His long locks looked like they where all tangled together, but that was the beauty of Gawain, didn't at all. It was truly a look all his own.

"How much is it worth to you?" Lana shifted her stance, she tilted her face as the few fringe pieces of her hair touched her cheekbone, and her brown eyes locked up on his blue jems.

"What do you mean?" Her thick British accent took over as she dropped her hands to her sides, Gawain spin his eyes, Galahad was now speaking with Lancelot, now in the clear, Gawain continued.

"What is it worth to you?" Lana lowered her eyes, and before Gawain knew it, his beloved axe was in her hands.

"How about you give me some damn bread." Lana suggested while twirling his axe in her hands. Gawain motioned forward, in attempts to recover his weapon, but Lana took a step back, and shook her finger. "Gawain, there is no use. Bread please."

"I'll survive without the axe. You on the other hand, can't survive without my bread." Gawain gave a corky bow, he knew he held all the cards, Lana had a bitter taste in her mouth, and with a simple glare, she walked past him, axe in hand. Gawain turned like clockwork. "Where are you going?" Gawain shouted while following.

"What the?" Galahad turned from the wagon, a thick fog was rolling in, and rolling in quickly. Lancelot tied down the wagon, and securing the horse too, he turned back to Galahad, but he was unable to locate him in the fog.

"Galahad?"

"Yes,"

"Get on your horse, we need to ride." Lancelot yelled, his turned to where he last spotted Gawain and Lana, his face frowning he dusted off his chest and stepped a few feet from the wagon, but still in distance of his horse. A rough grunt came from his side, it was Lana's stallion, and Gawain's not to far behind.

"Lana! Gawain!" Lancelot shouted, Galahad trotted over, his hooves slamming into the dirt and recoiling pieces of the earth into the air. "Lana!"

"Lancelot, this fog is too thick." Galahad revolved about the area, as panic set in. They couldn't leave without Gawain or Lana, imagine what Arthur would say. "Gawain!" Galahad shouted his feet nervously tucking into his horse's side. "Lana!?"

"Woads," Lancelot whispered, Galahad turned back into Lancelot's view. "We can't just leave them,"


	4. Four: Pressure

Four - Pressure

((keep in mind this story goes back and forth between observation, i.e. when Lancelot returned to the post at about noon the following day, we still have half a day (yesterday) were Gawain and Lana haven't experienced yet, err or you just haven't read yet. Hope you understood that))

The feeling on his back wasn't so pleasant; it seemed the angrier they began, the more he was stuck in his spine. His wrists where stretched, and his legs bound. All he could do was watch her, the fire between them, and the knife pointed to her wrists. She bit down hard on the cloth closing her voice. Lana watched the blue Woad; his face covered in tattooed marking and his chest bore a single ring of fire step towards her, a knife in his hand.

Gawain leaned forward, his first natural instinct was to save her, and once that knife touched her skin, his eyes locked shut. His back was pierced with pain, yet again, a rough grunted was deep in his throat.

Her profound breathing increased as the man's animal like face hissed at her own. Lana want her sword to slash his throat before these on lookers. The knife, was her own, her teeth grinded hard, as her brow sweated from the blistering heat waving off the fire. Her dirtied face illuminated in the shadows of the trees. As he touched her collarbone with the knife, pressure was added, blood dripped from the long wound, holding her breath, her eyes never left her attacker.

Gawain opened his eyes, he could hear his name being called, and it was Galahad. Pushing the cloth from his mouth, he felt it nearly free from his teeth, another Woad called out and a right cross to his face cancelled any chance of Lancelot and Galahad to their rescue. Lana growled as the Woads collected around Gawain's now silenced body.

Untying the vines that locked his arms and legs, they laid him on the floor, and pushing his hair from his cheek, the knife which cut Lana, sliced his cheek, Lana screamed under the hushed cloth. Her eyes wide and blood running in her veins burned her skin.

They danced in leather made skirts and vine stashed around their biceps. Their feral locks appeared to have a mind of their own, twisting and turning with each move. About two dozen Woads crowded around Gawain, pulling at his armor, gripping what weapons he had lift, taking souvenirs while Lana pulled at the vines holding her still about a large tree.

"LANA!" Lancelot's voice was getting louder; she could hear his footsteps. She looked down, her daggers where taken, but they missed the concealed dagger on her back, shielded by the cape she wore. Crimson lines exited the wound, trailing down her armor, and dripping into puddles on the dirt. Her eyes watched as Gawain's body was no longer clearly seen through the fire that parted them.

A Woad, the same one who cut Lana stood up, and hearing the voices come near, he dashed over to Lana, and with the same punch given to Gawain, she was knocked out.

"Arthur!" There horses galloped so fast the wagon and the guard could barely keep up, dust coursed through the pathway, and rested in the out post. Lancelot dove off his stallion, with Galahad following suit. Lancelot ran past Bors and Tristan, but Galahad stopped slowly, and bending over, he rested his hands over his knees, Bors stood up, as the crowd was silence in the urgent moment.

"Galahad?" Bors asked he left his ale at the table and when Galahad swung back up to stand straight, he pointed to the wagon, while catching his breath.

"Gawain," He took a breath. "Lana, Woads," He huffed and puffed, it seemed like the sudden break on land to run wasn't the best idea. Bors stared at Galahad, he wasn't making the connection when uncertainty set in. Tristan, with his arms crossed spoke for Galahad, with no vital emotion leaving his lips.

"Woads have captured Gawain and Lana."

"WHAT!?" Arthur shouted, the wet cloth left his forehead, the blankets once over his body scattered over the floor. Death was echoing from his eyes, as they flew open and his face went pale. Gawain was one of his dearest friends, and Lana was family. He turned and without question, he took hold of his Roman armor.

"A thick fog took over, we searched until almost until dusk," Lancelot admitted as his hands opened up, and he begged Arthur not to be angry with him. Lancelot's facial expression hadn't changed, Arthur almost thought tears came down from his lashes, but Lancelot never cried, ever. Arthur pulled his armor over his chest, turning to his friend; he asked a simple question.

"How long of a ride?"

"A day if we hurry," Lancelot was out of breath, he watched Arthur tie Excalibur onto his waist, and he passed him, brushing his shoulder over his. "Arthur!" Lancelot shouted, he knew how much respect and trust would be lost because of this mistake. He was beyond worried for Gawain, and especially the state of Lana. And in imperative moment, Lancelot grabbed Arthur's arm, he spun around and his face lowered onto Lancelot's, his stare deadly.

"What Lancelot?!" Arthur hissed, trying to keep his voice at a calm tone.

"Lana, she's, she's with child." Arthur's eyes widened, he grabbed Lancelot's shoulders, and slammed his to the wall, and his voice wasn't what Lancelot worried about now.

"Did you know before hand? DID YOU?!" Arthur shouted, Lancelot braced himself, his best friend's face held an appearance of murder, and Lancelot's back felt glued to the wall as Arthur pulled away. "You knew, and you let her go on this mission, Lancelot your mind must be fading."

"Arthur, she's capable of taking care of herself!" Lancelot shouted as Arthur headed for the door, ready to ride.

"And yet she is now lost, in Woad territory, with child and possibly incredibly injured!" His voice boomed in the echoing room. "Feel lucky that Gawain is with her now, I hope." Lancelot shook his head while Arthur left, heading straight for his horse.

Bors, Tristan and Galahad watched as Arthur stomped near them, his eyes narrowed on Galahad, passion flowing from his face, he was infuriated. Galahad stepped back, until Arthur spoke.

"Bors, Dagonet, Tristan, come with me." Arthur turned his back then shouted. "Hurry up Galahad!" Lancelot came into view; he propped up onto his stallion, and waited for Arthur. Galahad sat on his saddle, next to Lancelot, whom was for the first time voiceless. Holding onto the rein like it was all he had left, once Arthur was in sight, on his horse, Lancelot turned, turning from the wagon, he lead the way, with Arthur quick on his heels. Tristan, Bors, Galahad and Dagonet close behind.

It was almost dusk, and Lana heard Lancelot's voice muffled in her mind. Her eyes closed tears where coming, but she couldn't allow herself to cry. When she finally looked around, she saw Gawain, next to her, he as well still tied up. But the scenery had changed, he was tied to a tree much like she was, and he had a perfect coal like black eye. Lana imagined she had one as well.

She licked her lips, and realized her mouth was no longer covered, nether was Gawain. He looked at her face, compassion filled his eyes, and she knew how badly he wished to get them free.

"How are you feeling?" She whispered, but as soon as she spoke, a near by Woad ran over and slapped her cheek, her face flinched, and her mouth tasted of copper -- blood.

"Hey!" Gawain shouted, the Woad pointed his finger and spoke in his native tongue, he yanked on the vines, they where to strong to jerk off. Walling up a ball of spit, she launched it onto her attacker.

"Bastard you wish to hit me? Release me and I'll show you how well I can repay your favor." The Woad bent over, his long brown covered fingers held her jaw still, and as his face came closer to hers, he whispered a few Woad words. Lana glared into his hallowed eyes, she begged for her arms to come free so she could injure him. Once his fingers swiped free from her jaw, he took his tips of his fingers, and rolled them over her wound, collecting the blood. Lana jolted back, her head hitting the tree trunk. Gawain made a 'shhhing' sound, telling her to keep her mouth shut.

Then without hesitation, the Woad stood in front of Gawain, he rolled the blood soaked fingers over his facial wound, and Gawain didn't flinch. Piercing the Woad with his eyes, he watched the man turn to the fire, and splash his dripping hand into the inferno. The blood sizzled violently, and as the blaze burnt down, then fixed it's self back into a large glowing combustion, the Woad turned to Gawain, obliviously irate. He was wound up, and after slapping Gawain, he drove a dagger into armor, near his left kidney.

Lana watched in slow motion as Gawain shouted in pain, the Woad drove hard, screaming war cries with passion. His companions celebrated chanting and shuffling brush into the blaze, causing cracking sounds, and small pieces of ash to float in the air, covering anyone near by.

It was strange, Woads usually killed, not captured. Gawain and Lana alive? This was never Merlin's style, the way his people worked. It was like fire with ice, how did detaining Lana and Gawain help them to get their land back? How did it help Britain? Then it hit her, whispers traveled about Britain, of Rogue Woads; this had to be them.

Hunched over, Gawain's breath heaved in and out he was throbbing with pain. Besides, a wound such as that with out quick treatment could kill Gawain. Lana stared helplessly, her face still stinging from the imprint left on her skin. Gawain took several deep breaths, his hair draping his face; Lana lowered her head, trying to view his expression. He lifted his chin, and no sign of pain was painted on him. His teeth clenched together, he looked over at her, his eyes where always his weakness, those blue gems gave everything away.

Lana swallowed before leaning her head back, a strong stinging rushed into her brain, and a thick spinning began to overwhelm her sight. The concussion she had suffered earlier, which lead to the tree tying was erupting again.

Then all went black.

((thanks to Gryffindor-Seeker!))


	5. Five: Fog

Five - Fog

Snapping fizzled in the middle of the night, and with each loud crackle, it became obvious she'd awakened. Lana opened her eyes quickly, her face was smashed on the dirt, and after she lifted her cheek, twigs and leaves stuck. Brushing off the objects, Lana looked at her wrists, the vines in which held her where scattered on the ground, touching her chest, she felt the dry blood. She looked to her left, Gawain, untied as well was lying lifelessly. He'd been sprawled near the fire; crawling on her knees, Lana moved over his legs, and touched his face. He was still warm.

Jerking her neck, there were no Woads in sight, but Gawain's axe, and Lana's sword and daggers where on the ground, inches from the dying fire. Each curved in the forest felt empty they must have left. Leaning over his body, she noticed a cloth, clogging his kidney wound. Her hands flustered over his body, unsure what to do.

"Gawain, Gawain," She slapped his cheek lightly, hoping not to cause pain near his cut. After a few moments of repeating his name, his eyes opened, blinking feverously. Lana pushed him back to the floor as he tried to get up. "Stay still, your wound,"

"Merlin came," Lana's eyes halted, Merlin? "Rebel Woads, he scared them off, then dropped our weapons, and proceeded to knock me out." Said Gawain unhappily. "Let me up,"

"Shut up," Lana hissed, she pinned his shoulder to the ground. On her knees, she lifted the drenched cloth; crimson fluid rushed from the opening, and with a cringing face, Lana placed the cloth back down.

"I figure it's a day and a half home. Two if we break for night." Gawain mentioned his arm lifted up, and touched his tender forehead. Lana held out her hand, offering to help him up. Once his hand gripped hers, her voice changed, her head was throbbing as well. Her eyes closed once Gawain stood still, shifting his hand over his wound, he reached out, catching Lana in time. "Whoa, Lana you alright?" He noticed her cut above her chest; it was dry, but deep. What a wonderful scar it will become.

"Head, spinning," Removing her hand, she looked back at Gawain. They'd been so close once, however, as Lancelot entered her heart, most of her time with the other Knights fell apart. When he dropped his arm, he bent over, his face wincing while grabbing his axe. Once her sword and other weapons came to their original location, Lana looked about the darkness. "What do you suggest?"

"Walk," Gawain pointed to her right, Lana nodded, before heading off though, she picked up a clump of sticks, twigs and other burnable substances, tying them with the vine, she placed the large end into the fire.

"Alright," Gawain nodded; it only took moments before Gawain felt the effects of much blood loss. Lana turned back, once Gawain shuddered she took over. "Damn it, Lana let go!" Gawain's pride was taking a back seat; Lana maneuvered his left arm about her shoulders.

"Shut your damn mouth Gawain, or I'll hit you with you're own axe!" Lana threatened loudly, Gawain grumbled as their long journey began.

After almost every half an hour, Gawain needed a rest, his breathing never ran smoothly, and his eyes were barely open. Once several hours past, and tree after tree was forgotten, Lana watched how the weight on her body increase, and Gawain's large feet shuffle with each step. His face, frail and weak, only held color by the slash under his eye. The mixed brown and blonde within his beard matched his hair, Lana was always curious as to what true color held his hair. Each month past his hair seemed longer than her own and tangled about each strand.

Gawain astounded Lana, he was calm and cool, but in battle, he held a fire in which she'd never seen before. He reminded her of Galahad, which ironically enough, the two were just as tight as Lancelot and Arthur.

"Alright, Gawain, wake up," Her hands, viciously shaking, were about to give out. From holding up Gawain and the torch, she wasn't able to feel a damn thing.

"Huh?" Gawain muttered Lana stopped, dropping the torch to the ground, it caught fire to a small bundle of leaves. With a few large trees as shelter within the forest, she tried to help him safely to the ground, but what lack of strength she had Gawain kinda fell. Lana turned to the flames, and hobbling around the growing blaze, she separated small twigs, to keep the flames under control. Her eyes fluttered about her surroundings, she saw a few large branches, and as Gawain laid on the floor, she ripped her cape off, covering her friend with the warmth.

Stealing his axe, Lana chopped with what little energy left, and managed to have a decent amount of wood for a fire. Once all was settled, she slid to Gawain, and on her knees, she tried to sit him up. Sleeping could cause him to never awake that wasn't Lana's idea.

"Gawain, wake up, please wake up!" Lana had him sitting, yet his eyes still shut. Breathing loudly, she saw her weaved skirt, overlapping her leather armor. Her fingers fumbled over the knots, until she held a long run of thick fabric. Tossing the line to the side, she worked quickly, unraveling his armor from his waist. Seeing more blood, she covered her mouth, the sight of large amounts of blood made her stomach weak.

Cowering, Lana rolled the plated armor up to his chest, until he fell back down. Scrambling, she yanked up his armor, and placing the white cloth back over the wound, she froze. "There is a plant, leaves, it helps stop bleeding, actually promotes clotting." Lana's free hand waved in the air, as if she was planning to pick the name of the plant from the air. She remembered how freely the plant grew, but also how the taste was great. Gawain always carried food in his pouches. Adding pressure to his wound, she reached in, and thus, pulled out the leave she needed. "Thank the gods you enjoy eating Gawain."

It didn't take long before the bleeding stopped, Lana sat next to Gawain, her cape blanketed over his body, and she huddled over the fire. Stroking her arms swiftly, she almost wished the faster she moved, the warmer she'd become. But she was still freezing in the fall night.

Birds whistled, and the moon faded behind clouds -- the night was empty.

At Tristan's advise, the Knights camped for the rest of the nights. They'd gained much ground from the day, but still no Lana or Gawain in sight. Lancelot's mind raced with horrible ideas of what would happen to her, and his child. Fear for his friend wasn't absent as well, if Gawain had been killed, Lancelot could never forgive himself. Arthur was livid already, if one of them wouldn't return, Lancelot could see his head on a stake.

The same fog that caused the disappearance was broad this night. Arthur stood next to the fire, deep in thought. Lancelot could almost see the wheels turning in his mind. Lancelot admired Arthur's mind, the brilliance and heroism, which derived from his every pour. Lancelot knew he would never be that great of a man, never in his years would he amount to Arthur. The current event proved it. Arthur would have never lost Gawain or Lana. Arthur Castus would never allow any of his Knights from the safety of his sword. Lancelot failed miserably, he couldn't even protect his pregnant girlfriend. The more he wrapped his mind around it, the brighter it was. Arthur, hands down was truly a better man, in all aspects.

And as the fog floated around them, no one made a sound, not wishing to have Arthur's wrath.


	6. Six: Many Uncles

Six - Many Uncles

"Damn fire," A soft voice entered whimsically in her temples, thudding at a high volume. The taste in her mouth was awful, and as the bright light pushed it's way into her eyes, she noticed the strange positions he was in. Once she'd clearly figured out the pillow she was laying on wasn't, Lana slowly sat up. She'd been sleeping in Gawain's lap. And with her surprise, he was wide-awake, the cape she'd laced over him, was now shared between them. "You should get more rest."

"You're awake, we need to move. We lost much time with you sleeping on my shoulder," Lana mumbled with a yawn. It was still dark out, and Gawain grinned as she sat beside him, the blanket barely making it around them.

"Old bread really helps out;" He held a last remaining chuck, before handing it to Lana. Ripping off a mouth size piece, she placed it in her mouth. "We'll get going in a bit."

"No," Groaned Lana, she wanted a warm bed now.

"Hold on Lana. We're alive, my bleeding has stopped and my bet is they'll be trailing about a carriage for us." Gawain laughed near the end of his thought, but Lana rolled her eyes.

"The minute you stand up again, you'll be sleeping on my shoulder." Lana rubbed away the sleep from her eyes, until a yawn left her mouth. "That Woad got you good."

"It's easy when you're tied up. He nailed your chest well," Gawain lifted the blanket and pointed, Lana shook her head, it would leave a dandy mark.

"Arthur must be shitting himself right now. Lancelot and Galahad must be in hell." Laughing softly, Lana rested her head on Gawain's shoulder, exhausted she sealed her eyes.

"Poor buddy Lancelot. You both won't get points with this one."

"Yeah, meaning Arthur is forbidding our relationship." Lana shook her head, and removing herself from his shoulder, she turned to Gawain. "I don't understand why Arthur is having a fit over nothing."

"Ha! He's your brother!" Gawain laughed. "He knows how Lancelot works. He's never been just with one woman. Jumping about the place is his convenience." Gawain stopped laughing, and with clearing his throat, he added a few things. "Lancelot has rage; Arthur wants you with a stable man."

"Lancelot is stable!" Lana growled Gawain allowed his eyes to move from her to the fire, the ambers burning glared onto his face. Gawain would never tell Lana, but he was worried the Rebel Woads still where near by. All his thoughts halted when Lana began to shiver, again. She shook in her sleep, which when he awoke, he placed her in his lap, and held her, hoping his body heat and the collecting warmth of the fire would warm her up. He even suggested she had another wound, which like him was loosing blood. But after a quick search, nothing.

"Here," Gawain wrapped his arm around her and pulled her in, his chin resting on her head. "Once you're warmed up, and not shaking -- we'll continue." Her body cradled in her arms, she started to feel his high temperature, though still, her arms where covered in cold bumps. Their breathing matched each other's, chests rising and falling together, her cheek planted against his armor, and she closed her eyes, was he truly right about Lancelot? Was he stable? Times before, Lana was curious as to what she was doing. He was physically attractive, by far, and his mouth, the way it curved and how he spoke so well, all of it made her body ache for his. But what else was there?

"I often think it was a mistake." Gawain snapped from the reflections he currently was making, and listened to Lana speak. "Getting involved with Lancelot. Arthur is speechless; he can barely look at me. But it was only a matter of time before I felt something for one of you," Lana smirked, Gawain laughed, his chest bouncing her body. "After these long ten years, I believe I almost know too much about all of you. I tell Vanora how lucky she is to not witness some of what I have."

"Maybe Arthur's best friend wasn't the smartest choice."

"What will you have me do Gawain?" Lana asked. "What? Will you sweep me off my feet? Whisper sweet words, tell me I'm the only one?" Lana asked, Gawain stared into the flames while his stomach built with laughter. "I'm a woman in war. To hear those things are like gold! I kill a Woad then go home, and have someone too share my bed. I can only take what I can get," Lana spoke amused.

"Roman men I hear are quiet a catch."

"Awe, they'll be too threatened." As soon as the words left her lips, Gawain laughed. She could be right; most men wouldn't want a wife whom could kill him. "I have chosen this life, a life of a Knight. And what will happen when I become a mother? The last thing I want is to sit at home, knit and cook. I can't even cook." Gawain smirked, Lana couldn't cook, what a shock.

"I'll teach you. Once we have a nice vacation from this hell. And you'll have plenty of time to think of what you will do when you become a mother." Lana clenched her eyes shut, feeling Gawain's hands move and tighten the cape around them, she lifted her head, and seeing her friend's face, she whispered.

"Sooner than you think," Gawain held his breath, his eyes lowered as he stared at Lana, her face went blank. Her brown locks waved with the light breeze, crashing over his shoulder. He had no idea, but then again, no wonder she went through her bread so quickly.

"Does Lancelot--"

"Yes." Lana stopped his question from even appearing, and she was absolutely frightened. "I don't want to have to explain to my child why their father is dead." Whispering in the night, Gawain gulped, Lana searched the fire, almost believing it had answers burning in its ashes. He pulled Lana in tighter, hugging her all at the same time. He huddled over her, kissing her hair, comforting her the best he could. "Please don't tell anyone."

"Course, I'm not Bors." It brought a small smile to Lana's face, Gawain hoped she'd lighten up soon. "And you will never need to explain to you're children why their father is gone. I believe once you have that child, he shall have more Uncles than any Sarmation child. And if anything ever is to happen to Lancelot, I will always be there. Galahad as well." Gawain added chuckling, warmth overwhelmed her body, and she was finally warm enough to continue.

"You ready?"


	7. Seven: Rescue

Seven - Rescue "Lana?" "Gawain!" "Will you shush!" Lana told Gawain, his arm back around her shoulders. Covering his abdomen, they'd been walking for around six hours, and Gawain was mostly able to walk on his own, though his fresh wound was still halting his travel. Thus Lana was back to crutch duty. She snapped at him, swearing she heard something. Dragging Gawain into the clearing of the trail, she stood still, Gawain narrowing his eyes down the tree-hidden path. "You hear that?" "SHUSH!" Lana repeated smacking Gawain's chest, he flinched back and placed up his hand for surrender. "That's Tristan's horse." Lana looked at Gawain and smacked him again, her face stern, she was sick of him speaking when her ears were fixed on a sound. Hearing her name clearly from Arthur's throat, she sighed with relief. "See Tristan." "Oh Gawain," Lana turned, facing her friend, with the others arriving at their rescue, Lana perched herself on her tiptoes, and kissed his cheek. She was beyond happy to finally be rescued. When she moved back, Gawain's eyes looked as though he'd seen a ghost. "DUCK!" He shouted, pushing Lana to the ground. Rolling over, she saw Tristan, and his bow pulled back, arrow discharged in the air. Gawain's face followed the weapon. Woads. He looked down at Lana, his face wincing in pain; he kept himself up with a single palm while pointing towards Tristan. "Run!" Lana looked over his shoulder as a stream of painted men darted towards the two. Lana twisted on the ground, kicking up dirt as the shouting of the Woads increased. Her reaction wasn't to run, snatching Gawain's forearm; she pulled with all she could support. Shock plastered his face, gritting his teeth he shouted yet again, with fury flowing in his words. "Run damn it!" She pulled harder bringing Gawain to his feet. Just then, a horse's grunted behind her, the cavalry had arrived. Gawain pushed Lana back, balancing on his own two feet planted firmly in the ground. "Gawain!" Lana shouted, she'd bent over, grabbing a dagger; she tossed it over his shoulder, connecting it with a Woad in the throat. Blood rushed from the wound, as the Woad fell on his knees. But nothing stopped an arrow from grazing his shoulder while his mouth widened. Grabbing the remaining three from her thighs, she helped hold Gawain up, as Galahad jumped from his horse to assist. Bors, Dagonet, Arthur, and Tristan took over, whaling each Woad with all the power and rage they held in. Lancelot trotted over, and seeing Gawain in the safety of Galahad, Lana was the last to be saved. Shouting her name, she turned holding up her arm, ready to be pulled up onto his horse. Slow motion over came his sight, just as fighting began to die down around them, he connected their wrists to pull her up, as she was held in the mid air, her jaw jerked open, and her eyes welled up. Lancelot quickly turned his horse, unaware of what happened. ((and another! and yes, I do understand that they where truly rescued easily, but understand it's not truly about the rescue, yet the relationships...)) 


	8. Eight: Lucky Arrow

Eight - Lucky Arrow

At a high rate of speed, the gates squealed open near dusk. Galahad, Arthur and Lancelot where the first in, their horses huffing and puffing until pulled at a final halt. Arthur flew off his horse, his long red Roman cape tossing with each motion. Galahad was able to help Gawain off this horse alone; Arthur looked at Gawain, whispering encouraging words and patting his back. Blood rimmed Gawain's mouth while Galahad aided his movements, hopping across the pathway. Tristan, Bors, and Dagonet entered all gathering off their horses like the where on fire.

Pulling her down, Lancelot shouted for Arthur, and once Lana's brother was in view of his sister, his face filled with concern. Lana gripped Lancelot's shoulders, pressing her chest against his in pain, her eyes clenched together she took heavy breaths.

"Lana, I need you to hold still," She nodded her head as Lancelot held her close. Arthur looked up at his friend, signaling at once. Between the intense breaths, she opened her eyes, and saw Gawain yards away; her eyes locked with his, just as Arthur pulled. When the jerking triggered her nerves, she yanked on Lancelot, as a sharp scream left her mouth. Lancelot gripped her, trying to ease the pain, as his appearance was pale.

Bors stepped forward, watching Lancelot and Arthur speak to Lana as she groaned in torture, ahead of Gawain and Galahad. Dagonet helped support Gawain, but he just kept his eyes ahead, nothing ached on his body anymore, as Lana allowed a single tear to roll down her cheek. But she still held Gawain's powerful gaze, almost like he was coaching her through the stinging.

Gawain's lips parted as a final tug wrenched Lana backward, her face stiffened, and she closed her eyes, breaking his connection with her. Gawain's heart paused while Arthur dropped the bloodied arrow.

Lancelot picked up Lana, and the three of them walked off, heading for her chambers. Gawain was moved by his fellow Knights and once he realized they where speaking, he paid attention.

"Where are you bleeding?" Dag asked his deep voice rumbling Gawain's feet barely touched the ground as the three faded from sight. He watched Bors lend the way inside with Tristan behind him.

"Left side, right shoulder and my cheek," He listed quickly while being lifted to his chamber.

"No hidden arrows?" Galahad questioned, Gawain just shook his head, not finding any humor in his comment. Once he lay in his bed, Vanora came in, unfastened his armory and lifting off anything over his injuries. She applied new dressing over his wounds, removing the leaves and the thick cloth. Applying a moist cloth to Gawain's shoulder, Vanora stepped back, staring at her work. She looked at her patient; his face was lost in his own mind. Seeing this as a perfect exit, she left him.

It didn't take long before another being entered his room, this time; Gawain sat up his bare chest hidden by the sheets Vanora made him acquire. Biting his tongue to keep any noise revealing his pain from his mouth, he balanced his back on the backboard of his wide bed.

"How are you feeling?" His strong voice carried over the room, Arthur took a seat near the fire burning in Gawain's quarters. The desk besides it was cluttered with weapons and cloths. At the end of Gawain's bed where two large bowls one with bloody rags, and one with wet clean ones. Arthur realized how badly Gawain had been injured.

"Tired, hungry." Gawain said, he didn't want Arthur's worries, so he left a tiny grin on his mouth. "Being lost for almost two days is adventurous." He humored himself, Arthur shrugged his shoulders, he was thankful Gawain was in high spirits. Resting his palm over his knee, Arthur's armor shook, making a clanking sound echo in fire lit room. A calming tone cleansed the room Arthur turned to his Knight, his face in a half smile.

"Can you tell exactly what happened?" Arthur requested, Gawain nodded his head, his long hair pulled back behind his strong and bulked shoulders.

"We took a break once meeting up with the carriage, giving the horses a rest. Lana, walked over to me, asked for some of my bread. I laughed; asked how much is was worth to her." Gawain's eyes traced over the stitched patter on the sheets as he continued. "She took my axe, threatened to hit me with it. I ran after her, when the fog hit. We where off the pathway, in the middle of a wooded area, when Woads attacked, hit us on the back of our heads. When I woke, Lana was tied to a tree across from me, as two Woads had be tied between spears. They took turned, slapping, cutting." Gawain pointed to his cheek. "Lana had a slash to her chest, I believe they hit her a few times as well. Then they gave me this pretty number," After pointing to his left side; Gawain scratched his chest, as he looked a far to remember the events. "Lana passed out, just in time to miss Merlin. Turns out Rogue Woads attacked, extremist Merlin called them. And once he ran them off, he proceeded to place me back to sleep."

"Rogue Woads?"

"Willing to capture and torture." Gawain added. "Next thing I know, Lana woke me up, and she built a torch, and carried my ass for a good portion of the time. Once she finally decided to camp..." Gawain continued his story to Arthur, telling him all that happened. Arthur still assumed this all could have been prevented. Lana shouldn't have gone into the woods, and Lancelot should have had more control. It was beginning to look clear that Arthur should have gone along, none of this would have ever happened. The story had finished, and Gawain had recalled all that he could, Arthur thanked him, and encouraged him to gather some rest. He also suggested Gawain sit out the next mission in the following days.

"Ouch, careful," Lana hissed between her teeth, Lancelot brushed small wooden flanks from her wound, directly below her right shoulder blade. Her bare back felt frozen, after two days in the cold, and an arrow in her back, she knew her body wasn't in great shape. Her exposed chest was pressed onto her bed, as a sheet covered her lower back. Lancelot dipping the white rag back over her wound, grazing small amounts of water at the half inch whole, which ran deep into her skin.

The apologetic words he wasn't known to saw nearly crawled from his lips a dozen times. While cleaning her wounds, he couldn't bring up the voice to say it. The guilt was overwhelming, especially all the pressure from Arthur. And Lana showed no annoyance with him, to his shock.

"Let me gather a dressing," Lancelot knelt over her body, placing a clean cloth over her lesion, Lana held her pillow, wrapping her arms underneath it, and cradling her face softly. Her hair was tied back into a small bun, avoiding any chance of the locks covering her gash. Blinking delicately, Lana watched from her left eyes, Lancelot's reflection in the bowl of water on the floor was her only way to view his face. And guilt was obvious. Once he knelt off the bed, his sat to on a chair, to view her turned face. She smiled weakly, closing her eyes with his touch to her cheek. His eyes, dark and hallow at times, made him seem a thousand miles away, but now she could feel his connection stronger than a winters breeze.

Reaching out with her left hand, she touched his knee, Lancelot raised his face, the hard ridged look he used to hold was fading.

"I don't blame you. If anything, I blame myself." Whispering Lancelot shook his head. "Don't try and sway my choice. You couldn't predict any of this,"

"I can't even protect you." Lana shushed Lancelot; her lips creating a small sleek smile. His lips touched forehead gently, his armor, which laid on the back of the chair, raddled as he moved. "What about the baby?" Lancelot finally asked, his mouth dry with concern.

"Not sure," She whispered, Lancelot rubbed his hand over his forehead, before touching Lana's cheek and back. A knocking came from the door; Lancelot stood up, and jerked the handle open.

"Mind if I speak with her in private?" Arthur rhetorically asked Lancelot. He stepped from the door, walking back to Lana; he whispered a few things in her ear, before pulling a comforter over her back, keeping her warm. He leaned over a final time, they exchanged kisses, before he acknowledged Arthur with nod, and left the chambers.

"Come to interrogate?" She smiled, her voice thick with sarcasm. Arthur had smile, for the first time in days. Taking Lancelot's seat, he gazed into his sibling's face.

"You feeling better? Finally warm without Gawain stealing your cape?" Lana smirked, Arthur had spoken to Gawain already.

"Yes, without Gawain stealing my cape and snoring on my shoulder." They both smirked, Arthur's face warmer than Lana had viewed in almost a week. "You had no need to worry brother, we where fine."

"Lost in Woad territory, right. Not worrying wasn't my choice." Arthur's brilliant voice made Lana feel at home, his massive and protecting stare landed on her, and she knew nothing horrible could ever happen to her.

"A few scrapes, a little lucky arrow here and there." Lana joked as though it was all a dream, but the pain she felt was real, Arthur knew she was doing a great job hiding it. "Arthur give Galahad and Lancelot a little slack." Lana came out and said it, Arthur's boyish grin was washed away.

"Galahad wasn't responsible, Lancelot was." Arthur stated. Lana rolled her eyes.

"Let him off the hook, as he is your closets friend, he deserves your understanding. Lancelot would never put us in harm. It was my mistake, be angry with me."

"You knew better, but it was his accountability." Arthur lifted his palm and then flexed his index finger at this sister. "You shouldn't have gone anyway. In that state which you are now." Lana closed her eyes, of course Arthur knew, but Lana knew the truth of what would come from the stress and cold nights. Leaving her eyes from her sibling, she looked at anything which wasn't involving Arthur. His damn pride was thick, and the way he ordered his men about, Lana felt more of his maid than sister. All the fury she was known for, the discussions, which she could lead into squabbling, all was erased for the first time. With the calm sound murmuring in Lana's quarter, Arthur revealed himself from her room, giving her space to rest.


	9. Nine: Blunt and Brilliant

Nine - Brilliant and Blunt Days followed, and yet not a whisper was repeated of Gawain and Lana's disappearance. Due mostly to Arthur's shush-shush approach to the subject. Gawain was out of bed within two days, same as Lana. The fog, which entrapped the two, had no longer been seen, and Woads had been hard to locate. As usual, the Knights left for another mission, but at request, Gawain stayed for a proper healing. Lana already knew she wouldn't touch a reins of her horse, even if she was lucky. Her brother Arthur and lover Lancelot wouldn't allow it. Damn them. Most of her time was spent in the study, she flipped through pages of notes Arthur had made. Pelagius gave him enormous amounts to study at his own free well, and Arthur took advantage of it. The small scribbled on the top corners of each page made Lana smirk that was whom Arthur was. Stacks of scripted notes, and books read several times before. Relaxing in the cushioned chair, her legs now firmly propped up with a adjacent pile of highly stack novels, Lana folded her arms, awestruck by Arthur's passion over the Pope, his God, and Rome. Personally, she never found it appealing, and although Pelagius never forced her towards Christianity, the floating sense to convert was lingering. She was a Pagan by choice, and she would rather pour milk into the Mother Earth than knell down to a God, which there was no proof too. The wick of each candle surrounding the study where close to finishing, but she was rather lazy, and with her back in such pain, she'd rather sit in the lasting darkness. Final sparks left the candles, until one burned alone, before dying along with the others. Her eyes connected shut, and with a yawn, she recounted her last conversation with Lancelot. "...You couldn't prevent this. I couldn't even if I wanted too." Wrapped tightly within the puffy sheets, Lana sat up, facing the pacing Lancelot whom was decked out in his armor, ready to leave once Arthur would call. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?" Lancelot shouted, with flashes of heat and anger bouncing on her cheeks, Lana stood up, and slammed the bowl, which held water to the floor. And what drops hit the fire sizzled in the ambers, but Lancelot just kept pacing, his eyes deep in thought. "How could you allow yourself to be so reckless?" "You allowed me to leave! So not all of this can be blamed on me!" Shouting without remorse, Lana placed her palm over her chest, looking at Lancelot with a sneering disgust. She'd remembered what Arthur told her, and the words of him shipping her off to Rome blurred her eardrums. Holding her tongue, she kept it secret, unwilling to allow another fight between the two close friends to burst. "You act like I gave him up! Like I voluntarily ripped this child from my womb and allowed he's cries never to be heard! Lancelot I am the one with an empty feeling, accompanied by my empty stomach!" His heels halted, his teeth latched together with his cheeks burning red. He leaned forward, his eyes nailing hers. "My stomach is empty as well! He was apart of me, just enough - if not more than you!" Lancelot pointed his finger, it shook with his overwhelming anger. Lana placed her hands over her hips, her eyes sharp as glass. "Yet you yell at me? As though this was my idea." "This child meant everything too me! And for you to be so hasty, so irresponsible, it's something a mother would never do. Lana, until you give up all you're little hopes of being a Knight, you can never truly be a proper mother. Speak with Vanora, she might give you pointers." Lancelot was actually getting vicious, but Lana raised her hand up, uncontrolled, she struck Lancelot with her remaining energy. "And once you remember who I am, you will regret those words." Lana hissed with a lowered voice. "You come crawling back here, and don't you be stunned if I turn away. I have no reason to waste my life with a man who claims I desired to loose my own child." Lana stepped back, her eyes never allowing salty tears to form; this argument finally boiled over within a few days of knowing Lana had lost their baby. "Lancelot you do well at pushing those away who care the most." "Is there a reason you didn't see the Knights off two days ago?" Scratching her forearm, Lana turned around, her eyes opened wide as light from the opened door flushed in. It was Gawain holding a burning candle. As close as the two where, Lana couldn't reveal her issues with Lancelot, Gawain had no right to know. But he knew of her loss, which was why he'd had Vanora make a berry pie she received in the middle of the night. "My attitude is devastating. So I shall sit in the dark. Ignoring everyone." She declared, her hand in the air, pointing at the burnt candles, sitting down the last flame to lighten the room, Gawain crossed his arms over his chest. Watching Lana, she raised her eyebrows. "Is there something you wanted?" "Come! Lets get some wine," His great hands lurched over, and clutching her arms, Gawain pulled her from the chair. After some rather intense persuading, Lana was lured down to and empty table in the back. Gawain pointed to free chair, and made Lana sit. He waited at the bar, Vanora smiled while pouring two full glasses of wine for two. With a boyish grin, Gawain's hair tossed about, illuminating this scar on the top right side of his forehead. It was red from the markings, and it had been embedded in Gawain's skin as a child. Lana's eyes twirled over the star connecting with a line, she was always so curious as to why it was directly over his right eye. She could have bet Gawain had told her before as to why, but it wouldn't spark any memory. When his feet slipped under the table top, with his glass cupped by his lips, Gawain gulped his wine as Lana stared. "What?" He asked slightly embarrassed, his glass covered his mouth, licking off the dripping wine. "That scare, above your eye. What does it mean?" Gawain relieved it wasn't something else she was inquiring about rested down his glass, and grunted firmly before laying his elbows on the table. Lana trailed her fingertips over the creases of the grain, waiting for Gawain to respond across the table. "It was the same symbol what was placed upon my father's head, and upon his father and so on." Gawain hunched over his glass, staring into the deep purple color, watching the ripples from his movements. "It means protection and greatness." Gulping down another swig of Wine, Lana leaned over, as Gawain sipped, she touched the marking. "That had to hurt," Flinching, Gawain pulled back. "Worse than an arrow to the back," He spat, Lana gave him a taunting glare, before leaning her back in the rocky chair, it squeaked loudly, Lana figured it was Bors chair. She picked up her maroon dress, just enough to pick up her feet and cross them over the seat of the chair. Minutes past, and drinking the last few sips of wine, Gawain snatched Lana's cup, and refilled the plentiful alcohol. "I believe your attempting to get me drunk Gawain." Lana piped up as her full glass went under her noise. "Best way to reveal the pain I say." Lana gave a small grunt, she tilted her head. An odd theory, but theories sometimes would twist into the truth. Bending over her knees, and laying her head on her arms over the table, Lana sighed. "Pain," Lana whispered, Gawain moved his glass, so he could better view Lana's new position. "Without pain you can't feel the joy of life. Without pain, you can't be grateful, or honest. In pain, those expose their true intentions." Muttered Lana, she could imagine most of what she said was helped by the wine. But Gawain's thought provoked face made him believe otherwise. Arthur and Lana shared nothing of the same blood, but their minds were wound together. Arthur was capable of speaking brilliant comments, Lana had a talent for blunt. It was in these times when their roles were reverse. "Lancelot has an notable gift to shift pain." His head flashed up, Lana as still in resting her head. Gawain watched her, as her eyes fluttered open and shut, she had to be tired, possibly smashed, Lana wasn't a huge drinker, but once she'd had a few sips her head was whirling. "Always my fault, he's the strong one." Lana whispered mockingly. "My dreams to fight beside my brother and his Knights is irresponsible. And my chances of being a fit mother will never increase, until I burn my weapons for good and learn my place isn't on the battle field." "Did he say that to you?" Gawain leaned over, trying to limit their exchange with any outsiders. Lana groaned while closing her eyes. "In so many words," Gawain shook his head, he could never question Lancelot. As Knights they had to up hold a trust and bond within the circle, and Gawain in no way could get involved with Lana's relationship to Lancelot, it wasn't his place or right. Lana was still someone he cared for, thus he would do anything for. He studied her face as she lifted her chin and took a mouth full of wine. Gawain reached over and took the glass from her grasp. "No more purple liquid for you." Tossing the last contents of the cup on the dirt, Gawain tossed the glass behind the bar, he hoped the clay would up hold the falls. "Mummy! Mummy Daddy is home!" Gawain turned, it was one of Bors' children running towards Vanora. Gawain sat up, if Arthur found Lana drunk right now, he'd pass out. In a panic, Gawain took next to Lana's side, and whispering in her ear, she opened her eyes. "Stop worrying Gawain, I don't care about what state they see me in." Lana smirked, she seized Gawain's shirt, and pulled him to sit next to her. For a moment, Lana's drunken slur was straight, and her radiant eyes shimmered in the night. Gawain searched his stomach for strength, this would be interesting. Gawain watched as he saw a sight that he'd never experienced before. All the people within the protecting wall collected around the chained gate, waiting in the distance, whispering words and shushing one another. Gawain rested his arm on the table behind Lana's back, She crossed her legs and sat staring off near the opened gate. The pouncing hooves trotted as one, as dust clouds erupted into the sky, giving Gawain a chance to see their position, without seeing the Knights in front of him. "Arthur, Lancelot, Galahad, Bors, Dagonet, and Tristan. All there and accounted for," Lana was pointing with her finger when their name was called, she grinned, when all the men came home, it was a good day. Vanora jumped onto Bors, giggling in delight. Jols, took two horses at a time, like routine they headed for the pub. "Now watch, you all flow over here, immediately place a drink in your hand and forget about the mission you just accomplished." Lana elbowed Gawain as he gave her a look of disbelief, he laughed before pushing her elbow from his side. Galahad was the first with drink in hand. "And how are our two injured?" "Good enough to hit you with my axe," Gawain snarled with genuine amusement. "And beat your ass with a stick," Lana threw in, the three laughed intensely, and Gawain hugged Lana with his arm before standing up and patting Galahad's back. Lana watched the two best friends smile, their happiness made all the people around them glow. As the two spoke, Lana noticed Arthur walking near. He wasn't much of a drinker either, she supposed he came to speak to Gawain. Lana closed her eyes, and once they opened back up, her eyes where shocked as Lancelot gave her a glare from hell while passing her, and heading to the pub. Closing her once parted lips, her inhale didn't stop the blood from heating in her veins. Lancelot's temper always got the best of him. The shaking sound of armor was pulsating, and Lana rolled her tongue over her back teeth, when Arthur, who's armor jingled, knelt before her. "How is your back?" He asked, Lana tilted her head, the sight of her brother's face gave a warm beat to her heart. Arthur did well at causing things which enraged Lana to vanish. "Healing, most of the pain has gone." "That is good to hear. In time you shall ride Morty again?" Arthur's eyes widened like he was in candy store after hearing her pain had subsided. Hazel eyes rammed into hers, and the muffled resentment between them had evaporated. Lana couldn't help by laugh, she was the only one to name her horse, and the fact that Arthur used his name brought a smile to her brazed cheeks. "Your cut is also fading." Lana pulled away the sheer shall she used to drape of her shoulders, the cut was now a scab reduced in size. "Yes, I believe in a few days I will ride." Lana agreed, Arthur smiled and lifting himself from his knee, he held out his palm to her. "Come, we have much to speak over." 


	10. Ten: Beautiful Disaster

Ten - Beautiful Disaster No matter how much alcohol gushed into her veins, the words Arthur spoke weren't reduced into muffled sounds, and small laughs. His request wasn't a joke, it was truly something he would force Lana to do. "And I decided long ago that I will marry someone strong, someone I respect. And there are no other men on this island that I respect more than those men. More than you're self, or Gawain, Lancelot, Dagonet, Galahad, Bors, Tristan." Lana took a breath as Arthur glared down at her, the fire cracking in the background. "Lancelot as arrogant and rude, heartless as he can be. There is far more to him than anyone can know. We have grown fond of one another." Lana crept her hands together, and lowered her eyes to the tiled floor, staring at the pair of feet below. "Fond, and when the day comes when you must put that sword in his grave, will you're fondness save what you lost?" Arthur hissed, what if Lancelot died? What then? "We all might die, I might die tomorrow from a fault on the battle field. But you know it's a chance we must all take." "No." Arthur spun around, his cape hitting her knees and his face now towards the flames. "You are not here by order, you are here by my allowing. Once the weather clears, you will go to Rome." Arthur's voice called sternly. "You will never pick up a sword for battle again Lana." "Don't get petty Arthur," Lana didn't take his threat seriously, and raising her face, she narrowed her stare, holding her gaze to his back. "Rome isn't my home, after all these years, you realize my home is where I make it. Rome is your home, never mine." "You are the brother of a Christian, and a leader of Rome." "I am adopted by you, and a Pagan. As much as converting to your faith would be nice, that isn't whom I am. Rome isn't my home." Lana whispered. "The Roman captain has requested I send a Knight, and show our strategies, our fighting style, and help distribute their army." Arthur crossed his arms, his armor clanged together while her shifted his weight, then finally turning to view Lana. Lana raised her eyes up at him, and with her mouth shut, her brown eyes sneered at his sight. "I will send you." "Making me leave will do nothing between Lancelot and myself. All you'll do is piss us off." And with that Arthur was silent, his eyes traveled to the window, where the wind whistled in the bare night. "Oh what you weave Arthur. Sending me away, is that truly you're answer? Shipping me off to Rome, pawning me off!" Lana shouted. "You can't be with one of these men. What heart break you will have the day they don't come home is something I'm not willing to bare, or allow you to experience. Understand sister, this is all to protect you, like you claim we do so well." "These men are deep within my hearts, everyday I wish to grant them life. Lancelot will always be apart of me. Nothing can change that." Lana's voice was calming, and softer than before. "Send me to Rome, I will go with my head high, but I will only think of what might happen in my absence." "You're truly sending me off to Rome?" Lana leaned over herself as she sat in Arthur's plush bedding. Arthur stood behind the sneer drapes, which divided his room from the desk and his bed. His arms stiffly crossed over his chest, he nodded his head lightly. Her head spun remembering the loud argument they had weeks ago. "I believe it to be best. Rome still acquires for someone from my army. Sending you I believe to be the correct decision." Lana shook her head, pulling herself back up straight, she saw her brother's face. "You want me away from Lancelot. Arthur what happened wasn't his fault, it was all mine! I drug Gawain off into-" "This has nothing to do with Gawain, or what happened." "But everything to do with my protection. My mistake will cause me to be uprooted again from all I know." Lana's voice softened, Arthur shook his head and took a seat next to his sister. "I don't want to go to Rome. Rome isn't my home." "Do as I ask. This one favor." Arthur clarified. "Why?" Lana turned to her brother's face, he looked up at her his face clear. "You give me the reason, and I will pack my things tonight." Lana countered back, Arthur turned his face, he stared through the drapes and into the burning fire. It took him a few minutes, until the words where created to suit the situation properly. "Rome will be a good time to recover--" "Arthur," "Lana. You can read enemies correctly. You're sense of direction is unmatched, and in Rome I hope you will be able to see other options to the rest of your life." "I'm nineteen and the rest of my life is already set -- here with you and the men once you're orders are final we'll discuss what I will do." Lana retorted, Arthur just shook his head no. "You will go to Rome, recover, learn their city and understand further of their plans. You will be able to see each written mission we are specified too. And once the captain has allowed, you may return for visits." Lana held her mouth shut, leaving British soil for Rome wasn't an idea for vacation. "You're stay will be these last five years." "WHAT!" Lana shouted, she had no idea he had arranged this visit for Rome for five years. "Arthur five years? That's nearly a lifetime!" "Yes, and you will be safe in Rome, reviewing battle plans and other ideas." Lana sat facing Arthur, her tongue now sharp. "When they see it is a woman you've sent, they'll be disappointed." Lana said flatly. "You have a chance to drag one of your men from this hell, and guarantee their survival Arthur," "Yes, and I have chosen you, now pack, I have given you my reasons." Arthur sat up, and parted the draping and heated his hands over the fire. "I will escort you for south for three days, you'll meet with a carriage, and forty-five of Rome's best soldiers at your disposal." Arthur brushed his hands and turned from the flames, shuffling through the stacks of paper on his desk, he gripped a thick envelope, tied with a string. "Lana, you will be taught by Rome's greatest leader! You will send armies on missions, and learn valuable skills. Men will bow to her feet, and you will bring great respect to our family." Up on her feet, she waved through the drapes, and placing her hands on the envelope, she turned to the door. "You are Rome's greatest leader Arthur." Slamming items into her trunks, Lana had made her room into a disaster area, picking up things, then through them to the side. It was all her anger built up and crashing over her personal affects. She had four trunks to fill, one with clothes, another with books, another held weapons and the last trunk, well, she wasn't sure to put in there. that was until she thought of Morty, he loved the berries about this place, she decided to pack weeks worth in her trunks for her beloved companion. While checking all she'd packed in the middle of the night, huffing, she knew Lancelot had to be sleeping, and a few of her most prized possessions where laying in his chamber. Walking out of her room like she was on a mission, her heels slapped on the tile, until she eased his door open. Turning, she saw Galahad's door wide open, and Gawain's shut. Digging for a deep breath, she walked in, and with the fire still giving light, she saw Lancelot, blankets to his waist, his bare chiseled chest viewed clearly. Lana turned her face after seeing his eyes shut, she reached for the leather top, apart of her armor. Collecting a few items in her hands, she reached over at the bed side table, her beloved necklace lay near his dagger. A sudden amount of rustling came from his bed, and as Lana pulled the necklace to her fingers, Lancelot's eye lids swiped open. "What are you doing?" He said in a cocky tone, his voice showing he believe she was here for him. "Taking my things," "Lana you are definitely keeping me interested in our little tiff. What do you want?" Lana was able to figure out Lancelot quicker ever day, he did things according for reactions, and she knew how much he adored pissing her off. "I'm actually not surprised by your attitude at all," Lana laughed as Lancelot braced his back with the headboard. "So, come to bed." Lancelot patted the place next to him, and everything in her hands he ignored. Lana laughed hysterically, she stepped back and cleared her throat. "The only things I have felt from my father, was this necklace, and this phrase that repeats in my mind constantly." Lana looked at Lancelot, her eyes snapping in the night. "I was a horrible cook, and I tried to make bread, but I just made a rock of it. My father would laugh, hug me, then look into my eyes and tell me that it was a beautiful disaster. He should have told me what better to do, but he took a bite with a smile, and then gave the rest to the pigs." Lana paused as Lancelot looked puzzled. Lana grinning, gripped her belongings in her hands. "Lancelot, you are a beautiful disaster." 


End file.
